I lost my beloved Tybalt-cat Friday morning after a short but intense bout
of Hepatic Lipidosis (Fatty Liver Disease). He was only six years old,
and I am still beating myself up for not noticing something was wrong with
him sooner than I did. I'm going crazy with missing him.
The way he'd come running every morning as soon as he heard me stirring.
How he'd sit next to my head and look plaintively at me if I tried to
sleep in. How he'd bat at my hand as I filled his food bowl. The way
he'd delicately dip his paw in his water bowl and then lick it dry. His
preference for the water he found in people-glasses. Lounging on the
couch with him in my lap, or being lulled to sleep by his snortling next
to me on the bed. The way he'd jump into my lap as soon as I sat down at
the computer. The way he'd attack the CD tray or the printer every time
they showed some sign of life. All of his different meows. How much he
loved the laces of my Docs. How he liked to carry coins around the house
in his mouth. How he hunted spiders and scraps of paper mercilessly, and
how he even got the occasional bird that haplessly found itself in the
house. How he chewed the bath stopper to bits. The time he stole my gold
ring from off the table next to me and I didn't even notice. How he
would sit on my chest when I was on the phone with Bri and purr so loud I
could barely hear. How he would always meet me at the door when I came
home, meering and then flopping so I could rub his belly. His magnificent
tail and his soft soft fur. His one grey whisker. The corkscrew whisker
he had when he was a kitten. His harp seal impression. His circus bear
impression. His snortles and wheezes. The way he'd fling his toys at me
when he wanted my attention. Lapping up leftover milk from my cereal
bowl. His encounter with the Kitty in the Mirror. Curled up black fur
against the white chair. His swishy walk. His green saucer eyes. The
sheer size of him. The way he would run and jump onto my bed when I
closed my blinds. The way he would hide behind the front door when it
was open to watch what was going on outside the screen door. How he
learned to stand his ground against the neighborhood cats on the other
side of the screen door. Snoring in his cat bed that used to be his
brother's cat bed. The way he let only a few people get close to him.
The way he looked in kitty loaf position on a fluffy pillow. How he
would emerge from hiding after a salon the very second the last person
left. Sitting on top of his scratching post. Sleeping like a dragon in
front of the furnace. Trying to make himself flat to get under my
dresser. The way he would follow me around the house. The time he snuck
into the apartment next door through the hole in the wall while the
bathroom was being redone. Supercat pose. The tufts of fur between his
toes that made him look like he was ready to stalk across the icy tundra.
Lolling in a sunbeam on a weekend morning. Letting me give him a big hug every
morning before I left for work.
I had no idea my time with him would be over this soon.
Goodbye Tyb. I'm so sorry. I love you so much. You were a good cat.